Surprise
by LittleMissJoy
Summary: "She didn't have time to hold her breath, immediately taking in a mouthful of water as soon as she went under. She couldn't fight against the water." The Joker takes Harley Quinn to the pool, intending on having fun, but the voices get in the way of that. (Better than the summary makes it seem. Warning: Mention of abuse and schizophrenia. Oneshot.)


**A/N: This is the first fanfiction I've ever written about anybody, so I hope it's okay. Slightly OOC concerning the Joker, but to be fair, he's a difficult character to write being so convoluted. This is just my take at what I think could be going on inside the Joker's mind, but I don't think anybody really knows that. Any reads or reviews at all make me happy. Thank you! Enjoy.**

Surprise

"Where ya takin' me, Mistah J?" Harley Quinn asked for the fifth time in the last hour, waiting anxiously in the passenger seat of the Joker's purple Lamborghini with a blindfold over her eyes.

The Joker sighed in annoyance, almost at his last straw. "Harley, I told you," he growled, "It's a surprise. You have to wait and see, so for the love of God, stop asking, or I'll turn around and we won't have any fun at all tonight, okay?"

The former psychiatrist frowned. "Sorry," she answered meekly, before breaking into a smile again. "I'm just so excited! I really hope you're takin' me somewhere fun!" She paused. "And it's pretty rare that ya wanna take me out on a date," she mused, lifting her blindfold off of one eye to look over at the Clown Prince of Crime. "Ya must be in a pretty good mood, huh, Puddin'?"

He looked over to her and glared. "Just keep your blindfold on, Harls. We're almost there."

She giggled to herself. She vowed not to make the Joker angry on this night as soon as he told her he had a surprise for her. It was an extremely rare occasion that he wanted to do anything with her, so she was going to revel in this attention that he was giving her. She did, after all, love any attention that her Puddin' gave her. Good or bad.

But no matter how strong her instinct not to piss him off was, her anticipation and excitement was even stronger. She couldn't seem to cease the soft humming that kept finding its way into her throat. The Joker grunted in irritation whenever she got too loud.

Eventually, her humming reached a volume that she knew the Joker wouldn't like, but she kept repeating the chorus of "Only Girl in the World" by Rihanna in little _hmm hm hmm_ 's. Her joyful hums ceased immediately when the Joker slammed on the brakes, bringing the Lamborghini to a sudden stop as she was jerked forward from her seat, almost hitting the dashboard before whiplashing back into her seat.

"Eeek! Holy whiplash-eroni, Puddin!" she exclaimed, taking her blindfold off and looking over to her boyfriend. "Why'd ya stop?"

He looked at her with a sweet smile, although she could see it wasn't genuine, before his expression morphed into one of utter anger. "Why the hell do you _think_ I stopped?!" he shouted in irritated sarcasm, his loud voice overwhelming her in the small enclosure of the sportscar.

She smiled meekly, chewing on her fingernail. "Um... was it my humming?"

An exasperated growl escaped from deep within the clown's throat. "There ya go, Harley-girl. You do see how annoying it is, right?"

She cleared her throat before looking down at her lap. "Yeah... I do. I'll stop. I promise."

The Joker leaned back in his seat after turning the car off. "It doesn't matter. We're here anyway."

Harley gasped excitedly and turned to look out of the windshield. "Really?" she squealed. "Where is 'here' exactly?"

"Gotham's public swimming pool," he answered plainly.

The small blonde looked confused. "A swimmin' pool? Why are we at the swimmin' pool?" She came to a speculated conclusion and looked down in disappointment. "We're robbin' the place, aren't we, Puddin'?" she asked sadly. "Ya prob'ly got some sorta joke to go a long with robbin' a pool. I can't think of anything, but knowing you, there's some sorta pun sittin' in ya head." She sighed. "I thought ya were taking me to a fancy place to go on a date or somethin'." She actually laughed at herself. "That was wishful thinking, I guess."

The Joker chuckled darkly. "Actually, Pooh, I don't have a robbery planned. But there is something I'd like to do here. Just get outta the car and follow me."

Still, Harley was confused, but she obeyed him anyway, convincing herself to trust her boyfriend as they both hopped out of the car and made their way toward the closed building. She couldn't stop herself from asking, "So... why are we at the pool again, Mistah J?"

He didn't say anything. He merely grabbed her wrist and, a little roughly, pulled her up to the door. Without her permission, he swiftly pulled a bobby pin out of one of her twin buns, causing some of the hair to fall down. He carefully stuck the pin in the lock of the back door and managed to unlock it rather quickly due to years of prior experience.

The Joker motioned for his jester to follow him inside. "Be quiet, okay?" he whispered. "In case there's anybody here, I don't want to get caught. This is one night where I don't want to bait Batman in."

"Ya got it, Mistah J!" Harley replied, a little too loudly.

"Shhh!"

"Sorry..." she whispered with a giggle. "I got a little too excited. I love the thrill of sneakin' into places I know I shouldn't be. Especially with ya by my side, Puddin'!" she mused, gazing at him with nothing but adoration.

Her attention was quickly turned away from him when they stepped into the large, humid, chlorine-reaking room containing the indoor pool. Their footseps echoed off the walls and Harley couldn't help herself. She impulsively shouted, "Echooo!" to hear her voice repeating itself. _"Echooo! Echoo! Echoo!"_

She laughed at her own antics, but the Joker wasn't having it. "Harley! Are you trying to get us arrested?" he reprimanded softly as not to be heard by potential nighttime staff. But the amount of strength he put into squeezing her skinny wrist compensated the lack of volume in his voice.

She wiggled her wrist free from his strong hand. "Hehe... sorry, Puddin'."

The Joker glared at his henchwoman. "Stay here while I check for people who could be working here late." He stepped away. The last thing Harley heard him say before he stepped out of the room was, "Stupid people working at a pool at night. The idiots don't have a social life."

The blonde girl looked toward the pool. The room was dark, only illuminated by the glowing LED lights from the interior of the pool and from the small amount of moonlight sneaking in through the windows. The water was so still and clear-looking when it was empty. There were no teenagers diving off of the high diving board, covering nearby guests in chlorine. There were no silly little kids splashing around in the shallow end, greatly upsetting the water. It was completely empty of all the usual pests that Harley remembered from the last time she went to the pool.

She smiled at the memory. It was one of the many times she had stayed with Poison Ivy to take a break from her Puddin'. Ivy had decided to take her to the pool, but they just sat in the hot tub because Harley refused to even dip a toe in the actual pool due to never learning how to swim. She remembered Ivy teasing her about being afraid, but the cute red-head was still understanding and didn't push Harley past her comfort zone.

A moment later, the Joker stepped back into the large room and Harley pushed her memories of her short vacation with her best friend to the side in order to focus on her boyfriend. She knew that if she thought about Poison Ivy too much, she'd begin to think about the things that the plant-obsessed girl usually said about the Joker. Then she'd start thinking about how the things Ivy said actually made sense. Then that pesky little voice that belonged to what little remained of Harleen would surface and try to convince her to leave her Puddin'.

And Harley couldn't have that. So she quickly shoved Ivy out of her mind and looked to the Joker with a smile. "Well?" she asked in anticipation. "Are we alone in here? Or do I have to get creative with one of the water noodles?"

"No, sorry, Pooh, but there's nobody here to get rid of. It's just you and me in here. Alone." He flashed a sinister smile.

She _loved_ that smile of his. That gorgeous yet horrific clown's grin that striked fear into the citizens of Gotham made her swoon like an absolute baffoon. "So are ya finally gonna tell me why we're here? What's so interesting about the pool?"

The Joker looked thoughtful for a moment. "Well, Harley-girl, do you remember when we were driving away from Batman and I drove us straight into the Gotham Harbor?"

"Um, yes! How could I forget that? That was terrifying," she replied glumly. "And then ya swam away and left me to get caught."

"Let's not focus on that part, 'kay?" He patted her head lovingly and all her anger towards him for leaving her there immediately dissapated. "Right before I crashed our car into the water, you told me that you couldn't swim."

Harley's eyes widened and her face lost its color. She now had a pretty good guess as to why her Puddin' had brought her to the pool. He was either going to force her to learn to swim or drown her. Neither of those optioned sounded good. She looked over to the pool. "No. No, oh, God, I know what yer gonna do, Puddin'. I don't wanna go into the water."

In one swift movement, the Joker swept Harley up into his arms. "You, guessed it, baby. Time for a swimming lesson."

"No! Puddin', please! Put me down!" She squirmed in his arms, trying her hardest to release herself form his strong grip, but failed miserably. "I don't want a swimmin' lesson, Mistah J!"

"Too bad!" He carried the fighting girl to the deepest end of the pool and she shrieked as soon as she saw the label on the pool's wall read _9 ft._

"Ready, Harley?" the clown asked, although she knew he wouldn't care what her answer was.

"NO!"

"Here ya go!" Without another warning, the Joker threw his henchwoman into the pool, her clothes getting soaked through immediately. She felt herself sink to the bottom and she opened her eyes, the chlorine burning them. Through the water, she could see her boyfriend's blurred form looking down at her. She couldn't see his face very well, but she knew full well that he was laughing at her.

Harley could feel her chest tightening and she knew it'd been too long without much-needed oxygen. She kicked her legs and used her arms to push herself to the surface as well as she could. As soon as she reached the surface, she inhaled deeply and scrambled to the edge of the pool, grasping it tightly.

"HAHAHAHA!" The Joker's horrific laugh echoed throughout the room. "Oh, my God! Harley! You should've seen your face! You're so amusing, baby. How could you be so scared of water? HAHAHAHA!"

She frowned up at him, still choking on some water that got in her throat. It tasted terrible. "P-Puddin'! How coud ya do that to me? Ya scared the hell outta me!" She coughed again.

The laughing clown looked down at her trembling form and his laughter slowly faded to nothing. He took in her frail-looking body and actually felt slightly guilty. Slightly. It was as if he was a cruel hunter that had just taken out a deer, yet had that profusely irritating, teeny-tiny pang of guilt in his heart. It was barely there; just the slightest bit. Microscopic.

 _What are you doing?_ one of the voices shouted at him. _What is this? Guilt? Pity? The Clown Prince of Crime has pity on no one!_

Another oh-so-helpful voice chimed in. _Now's your chance. Shove her pretty little head under that water and you can be done with her! The annoying harlot can drown right here, right now. Just push her underwater and don't let her back up!_

The Joker didn't quite appreciate the use of the word "harlot" concerning his harlequin. But he liked what that one disrespectful voice was selling. This was the one that always provided him with the perfect ways to execute Harley, but he usually found a way to ignore him and listen to the one kind voice among the many horrible ones.

 _Look at her. The poor thing._ The female voice. The only one that was ever kind to him. The only one that was ever kind to Harley. In fact, this voice was often the culprit behind his extremely rare gestures of affection toward his sweet little jester. The voice continued, _The poor little lady is terrified. She's soaking wet. You know she trusts you, right? And you keep abusing her. You just threw her in a pool after she_ screamed _at you not to. Do you really expecct her to remain by your side if you continue to treat her this way? She's going to realize that this isn't good. One of these days, the plant will finally manage to convince her of the horrible and obvious truth and then-_

The voice that previously called Harley a harlot overshadowed the female voice. _Why would you want to keep her anyway? She gets in the way! She's annoying! She never shuts up._

The female voice overpowered once more. _We all know you feel something for her. Sure, you'll never admit it to her, but you feel it. You don't know what it is, no. But you feel something._

Harley waving her hand in front of the Joker's face interrupted the voices. She had a way of doing that: Silencing them. It was something he loved about her. "Hello? Earth to Mistah J! Ya listenin'?"

He looked over to her. Somehow, when he was focused on what the kind voice had to say, she had climbed out of the pool and was now standing in front of him, shivering. He shook his head. "What? Did you say somethin', doll?" he asked.

The mean voice. _Did you just say, 'doll'?_ _Oh, God. And I thought I heard it all when you started calling her 'Pooh'. You're disgusting._

The kind voice. _Well, isn't that sweet? Another pet name, I presume? And this isn't one of your manipulative schemes, now is it? haha.._

Harley laughed, and just like that, the voices stopped. _Thank the Lord for this woman,_ he thought. "Yeah, I did say somethin', baby. I asked if we could go home. I don't like bein' wet and cold."

 _Take her home. Get her into something warm and cuddle with her on the couch. She'll love it. Go on. Just do it._

 _Push her back in the water! You still have a chance to finally rid yourself of this pathetic mess. Push her. Push her. Do it. Do it!_

 _Hold her, Jack. She needs you. Warm her up; let her know you'll always be there for her._

 _Push her. Push her! Hold her head under! Kill the little bitch!_

 _You should kiss her._

 _Kill her!_

 _Kiss her!_

"SHUT UP!" the Joker suddenly yelled, making Harley jump.

"S-Sorry, Puddin'!" the poor girl apologized profusely. "I didn't mean to annoy you! You just seemed to be zoning out and I'm still waiting for an answer."

The Joker sighed. "It's not you, baby."

 _Gross! Did you just call her 'baby'?_

She blushed at the pet name. His pet names absolutely made her day. Even if he had just broken one of her bones, all he had to do was use some sort of affectionate pet name and she'd be in his arms, ready to smother him with kisses that often left cherry-red lip-shaped stamps on his beautiful, chalk-white skin.

But she frowned when she realized what he meant by, 'It's not you.' She sighed and cupped his cheek, forcing him to look down at her. "Ignore them, Puddin'. Just focus on me, okay? There's nobody but you and me..." The small bit of common sense left in her insanity-riddled brain told her that her next move would be an utterly stupid one.

She wanted to kiss him; to distract the poor thing from the voices tormenting his psyche. She knew he'd probably get angry, for the Joker has never been one for affection. He hated to admit that he has any emotion that isn't maniacal glee or absolute anger.

Harley knew that fact all too well. But did she care? No. Did she listen to Harleen whenever she told Harley to run away when he hit her? Absolutely not. The Joker needed somebody to take his anger out on besides killing replacable henchman. Now, she was a psychiatrist; she knew this wasn't healthy, but she stayed anyway, because she loved him with all of her heart. _And when you love somebody,_ she had mentally yelled back to Harleen, _You never,_ ever _give up on them._

Harley succesfully ignored the part of her that screamed not to do it, and she just dove in and kissed him. She did it quickly so he couldn't stop her right away. She slammed her lips onto his, standing on her toes to reach his face. She wrapped her arms around his neck. _Hopefully this can distract my poor Puddin' from the voices._ she thought.

She was enjoying the kiss a little too much, especially reveling in the fact that he hadn't wriggled away yet, when she felt him shove her - hard- away from his body. He pushed her so hard that she stumbled backwards and slipped on a puddle of water she had left when climbing out of the pool. Harley's feet slipped out from under her and she fell backwards, seeing stars when her head slammed against the concrete ground.

Her vision blurred slightly and she lifted her head to look up at her Puddin'. "H-Hey!" she tried to yell, but the sound was choked out. "What was that-"

She couldn't even finish her sentence. Without a single justifying word, the Joker kicked Harley in the torso. Hard. It knocked the wind out of her, but that was the least of her worries when the Joker kicked her again, but this time the force caused her to slide into the water. She didn't have time to hold her breath, immediately taking in a mouthful of water as soon as she went under. She couldn't fight against the water. Harley felt herself drift into unconsciousness and she speculated that this was going to be how she died.

 _Oh, God. So he did take me here to drown me? Haha... oh, well. I always knew my death would be by his hands._

 _Complete and utter black. It's so dark. Am I dead? Oh, I'm dead, aren't I? My Puddin' kicked me into the pool and then I drowned and now I'm dead-_

" _Harley! Harley!" Is that God? I'm dead. I know it. Oh, damn it. He's definitely damning me to Hell, isn't He?_

 _"Harley! Harley, baby! Wake up! Please!" Wait a minute. That's not God. I know that voice. It's him. My Puddin'! I'm not dead! Thank goodness!_

Harley was suddenly jolted into consciousness as she coughed up the water that had bloated her lungs. Her vision slowly returned to her and she took in her surroundings. She was lying in the Joker's arms, soaking wet from the pool water, as he knelt on the concrete.

She shivered, freezing cold. She felt the Joker's hold on her torso tighten as she trembled. She realized that he was soaking wet as well. Had he jumped in to save her? She looked up at his face and was completely surprised to see an expression of both worry and relief. "M-Mistah J..?" Harley managed to choke out.

The Joker laughed sadly and pulled her body towards his, cradling her head next to his chest. He breathed heavily as if he had been either panicking or giving her CPR. Or both. She smiled at the thought of him being worried for her life as she leaned into his hold. She was now very aware of the throbbing pain in the back of her head from where she hit it on the concrete, but she attempted to ignore it as she rested her head against her Puddin's chest.

She felt the Joker gingerly touch the sore spot on her head and she winced, but didn't dare push him away. He held his hand in front of her face. "You're bleeding, baby," he said. He tried to say it in a plain, matter-of-fact tone, but she could hear the shakiness, the worry, and the... _guilt_?

Harley knew psychology. She knew emotions. She had trained herself to spot hidden emotion in the Joker's words, but this was extremely new. She'd never heard anything even remotely close to guilt coming from this clown.

The Joker had never felt guilty for doing anything to Harley either. It was that one damn voice! Why couldn't she shut up and let him listen to the other ones? The ones that helped him hurt his jester, the ones that helped him abuse his... his _queen._

 _This girl is pathetic. How can you call somebody this weak a 'queen'?_ The disrespectful voice. _You just tried to kill her and she's hugging you!_

 _She's mentally ill._ The female voice. _Any normal woman would have hit you back by now. Any normal woman would've killed you, actually. I would have. You're horrible to her._

 _Why did you save her?_ The disrespectful voice and the kind female voice were talking simultaneously. He didn't even notice Harley trying to talk to him as he focused on the female voice. _Why did you jump in after her? You could have left her there! She was drowning_ and _you cracked her skull. It doesn't get much better than that, Jack. And yet you, being the pathetic, emotional weakling that you are, decided you just_ had _to go in after her. It's just like the night when the stupid girl jumped into the chemical vat. We were going to ditch the pretty little nutjob, right then and there. But you went in after her, you fucking idiot._

But suddenly the female voice was the only one he could hear. _And you're so much better for it. You know she's saved your ass multiple times from the police and Batman alike. You'd be in Arkham getting your brain fried if it wasn't for her. Admit it, Jack. You love her._

 _The Joker doesn't love anybody. You don't have in room in this disgusting heart of yours for love. She's still weak. You can push her in the pool, you know. In fact, I think she's asleep._

At that, the Joker looked down at the frail girl in his arms. 'Weak,' the voice had said. No. No! She wasn't weak! His little Harley Quinn was the opposite of weak. No matter what he did to her, she always fought through it. This girl has survived seemingly impossible situations just for the sake of being by his side. She wasn't weak. Weak was not a term used to describe the Queen of Gotham. Weak was not a term used to describe a girl who's almost been choked to death by the man she loved scores of times.

The Joker held Harley's head in his hands, turning her face upwards towards him. She was unconscious, that's for sure. He tried to wake her up. He hit her cheek softly in a futile attempt to wake her. "Harley, wake up! Harley!"

 _You care about her, Jack! You love her. You love her. Love. Love! You love her! Hahahahaha!_ The female voice was laughing now. What did she think was so funny? The Joker chuckled to himself for asking this question. He's laughed at things that aren't remotely funny to normal people: Mass murders, robberies turned wrong, hit-and-runs, explosions, merciless murders of innocent people just because they looked at him or Harley the wrong way... He could go on.

But then again, Harley often laughed at the things he did too. The Joker remembered a time when he and Harley were at the Penguin's Iceberg Lounge in a failed attempt to go on a date and one of the waitresses brought the wrong dressing for his queen's salad, so he shot the woman between the eyes. They had had to leave and poor Harley didn't even get to finish her food, but she was laughing the whole time.

This woman was the only person who liked what the Joker did. She was the only one who thought his antics were funny. And he liked that about her. She had an abnormal infatuation and obsession with an abusive, psychotic clown. He had driven her mad. Literally.

No. That was a lie. He hadn't driven her mad. She'd always been insane. She just needed the right person to bring it out in her. She needed the right person to make her realize that she didn't want to be normal. Because she wasn't normal. She was a nutcase. A complete fucking nutcase. And the Joker loved that about her. He loved her for it. He... _loved_ her.

The Joker sat in the middle of his bedroom floor. He had brought Harley back to their apartment, dried her off, and changed her clothes. He wrapped her in the warmest blanket he could find before putting a bandage around her injured head and laying an ice pack on it. He left her on the couch in their living room and told Frost to keep an eye on her.

Now he was just sitting on his floor, absentmindedly cleaning his many handguns. One after another, he took a gun apart, cleaned it, reloaded it, and set it aside. He looked around and almost laughed at himself. _Why do I have so many handguns?_

In front of him sat a bent up picture that Harley had taken of herself, printed out, and wrote, _I love you, Puddin!_ on in red lipstick. The girl had even kissed the photograph, leaving a red lip-shaped stamp on the corner just for him. She had given him that picture as a reminder of her. _"If ya eva miss me and don't know where to find me, just look at the picture! I'm right here. I'll always love ya, Puddin'. Even if the feeling isn't mutual."_

The Joker had folded the photo in half and thrown it into the mostly empty trash bin - which contained nothing but a couple empty whiskey bottles - the moment she gave it to him. She had looked disappointed, but she didn't expect anything less from him. As soon as she had gone from the room, he had opened the lid of the trash bin and took the picture right back out before shoving it in the pocket of his suit coat.

A few guns later, he could see a figure standing in the doorway out of the corner of his eye, but he didn't bother to look up. He didn't want to be bothered by his stupid henchmen's needs at the moment. He was about to wave his hand in dismissal when the person in the doorway said, "Puddin'? Ya okay?" and he almost jumped for joy in realization that she was okay.

He looked up from the photograph to see his jester standing in the doorway, wearing navy sweatpants and his purple suit coat that he dressed her in to keep her warm. She had one of her hands resting in the coat pocket while the other held an ice pack to her sore head. "You're finally awake," the Joker said, trying to sound annoyed at her for sleeping so much, but it just came out with a tone of relief.

He didn't fool Harley. She knew he actually cared about her, even if he would never admit it. She walked over to him and sat down cross-legged across from him. He looked slightly annoyed, but also happy and it made her feel relieved that he wasn't angry with her.

She noticed the photo sitting in front of him and it made her grin with utter glee. She quickly swept the photo up in her dainty hand. "You actually kept this?"

Harley knowing that he kept the stupid picture he gave her made him feel... exposed and raw. He didn't like it. He quickly snatched the photograph from her hand and shoved it the pocket of his waistcoat, making her frown.

 _You should've just left the picture in the trash. Look at you... you're pathetic. Disgusting. Holding on to something so stupid because of silly little sentiments._

 _Well, isn't that sweet? Hold on to that, Jack. You'll need it when she finally decides to leave your abusive ass. Hehe..._

Stupid voices! The Joker wished they'd just shut the hell up and let him be. Maybe then he could figure out his own feelings for the girl that weren't a product of his utter insanity. Then he looked to Harley and it dawned on him: She always managed to find a way to shut the voices up. Whether through kissing him, sucking him off, dragging him to a club, or even managing to seduce him into sleeping with her, which she did quite frequently, she made for a wonderful, pleasurable distraction.

"So..." Harley began, "Are ya mad at me?"

He looked at her with a confused expression. "No. Why?"

"'Cause I was bein' annoyin' at the pool. Isn't that why ya pushed me down when I kissed ya?" She chewed on her fingernail anxiously. The Joker didn't like it. He grabbed her hand and pulled it away from her mouth, but she brought it back up and continued to bite not a moment later.

The Joker sighed. He wished he could tell her why he did what he did, but he didn't think she'd understand. He wanted to shout, "I don't know why I do what I do to ya, baby! I don't know how my own emotions work and the stupid voices won't shut the hell up!"

But he didn't. He just stared down at the gun in his hands, trying to push away the tugging urge to put the barrel between her pretty blue eyes and just get rid of her right then and there.

She made everything into a mess for him. His world was perfectly fine before she waltzed on in on those stupid black stilettos that made her pretty calves pop out real nice. Everything was normal: Just the Joker with his jokes, the innocent citizens of Gotham, and Batman. It was his perfect little game. And the game had a routine. The Joker hurt people, caused anarchy, tormented Batman, usually got caught, broke out of the asylum, and returned to the streets of Gotham to wreak havoc once more, all the while baiting Batman in to start the cycle again.

But that pretty little blonde doctor with the low-cut blouse and tight skirt decided she had to sashay on into the Joker's life and completely destroy it. He was in the asylum phase of the cycle, being kept on the high security ward. He was, after all, one of their most dangerous 'patients.' 'Patient' wasn't exactly the word that he'd use to describe the nutcases at Arkham. _Prisoner_ seemed to fit much better.

The Joker thought he was going to get another pathetic excuse for a doctor that thought they were going to fix him, but would end up handing the case back over to Dr. Arkham with tears in their eyes. Nobody stuck around the Joker very long. Nobody could handle him; not even the specially trained psychiatrists. He prided himself in this fact.

But that didn't last. The doctor he got this time wasn't like the others. Dr. Quinzel was different and filled with so much potential. Just one look at her as she walked into their counseling room with a big smile on her pretty little face, and he knew she was different. He didn't know what it was then, but he liked her.

At first, Dr. Quinzel was another pawn in the game that the Joker was always playing. He had figured out during their first session that she took an odd liking to him and he was determined to use that to his advantage. _Just use the naive girl to break out of the asylum. Then leave the bitch in the dust._

That was the plan, but the plan changed when she refused to let him leave her. The girl actually loved him, no matter how much he attempted to convince her that The Clown Prince of Crime was not somebody who was loved. By anyone. That woman was determined to be with him and he had to admit that he liked her stamina, but he couldn't have her with him. He had meant to drive her just a little crazy, but he turned her into a psycho with nothing more than Obsessive Love Disorder, and it was too much.

He tried so very hard to ditch her in the chemical vat, but something made him jump in after her. It wasn't one of the voices, no, for the female voice that told him to be kind to her didn't start talking until later. It was his own God damned, disgusting heart. He cared. He really did. He wasn't going to leave her there.

Little did the Joker know when that spunky little doctor walked into that session room at Arkham, that he'd be falling in love with an adaptation of Harleen Quinzel: Harley Quinn. A woman created solely by him. No, not created. Brought out. He found the silly, crazy girl that wanted to wreak havoc and be her crazy self that was hidden deep inside the stuffy doctor. And he pulled her to the surface, completely obliterating the doctor. Harleen didn't exist anymore. She was now far beyond hope of a normal life. She was Harley Quinn: Queen of Gotham's criminal underworld and the girlfriend of the one and only Clown Prince of Crime.

The Joker looked up from his gun, ceasing the memories of his first meeting with Harley. He looked into her beautiful blue eyes, ones he swore he'd never get sick of staring at, and smiled. He was actually glad he didn't get rid of her. Choosing not to leave her when she first helped him escape was one of the best and worst things that ever happened to him.

 _You should tell her you love her. Go on. Do it._ That voice. Again.

 _But I don't know if I actually love her or not,_ he mentally argued. _I thought I was incapable of love._

 _You were, but not anymore. Thanks to her. You two can be happy. She won't be afraid anymore if you just admit you love her. Once that's over, it'll be easy to stop the abuse because you'll know that when you love somebody, you don't hit them. ...Unless they're somebody that's, you know, into that. Hehe..._ Did this voice have a sense of humor?

The Joker looked at Harley sitting there across from him, seemingly lost in her own thoughts. He realized he still hadn't answered her question.

"No."

She looked up at him, confused. "What?"

"I didn't push you because I was annoyed."

"Oh!" She seemed to figure out what he was talking about. "Then why did ya? I was really scared that I did somethin' wrong."

He shook his head. That voice was right. She was afraid of him. Yes, she loved him profusely, but there was that part of her that always feared that if she said the wrong word, she'd end up with a black eye and a bloody lip.

"Puddin'? Ya gonna answer me?" She hesitated in saying this, knowing that if she pushed him too much, it wouldn't end up very good.

"That stupid guy..." He trailed off. He didn't really know how to tell her what was on his mind. He buried his face in his hands. "Just... never mind."

She scooted closer to him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Hey, you can tell me. What's the matter? Is the 'stupid guy' one of the voices?"

He noticed that her voiced lost the silly Brooklyn accent. She spoke in the same voice she did during their sessions. He looked up to meet her eyes. Those eyes that he trusted greatly. He trusted her during their sessions, and he wasn't talking about the ones where he had just lied and manipulated her. He was talking about the sessions where he got her to turn off the cameras that he knew Dr. Arkham had recording them and he actually told her things that he had buried in the back of his psyche.

"Yes," he answered plainly.

"The voices told you to push me?" she asked, slightly relieved.

He nodded.

"So ya weren't mad at me? Ya know, for kissin' ya?"

 _Oh, you and I both know you weren't mad at her._ The kind female voice was back. _You were enjoying it. But you hated that you were enjoying it. So you listened to those of us with no common sense and you pushed her away. Oh, Jack. Don't be an idiot! You can't live without her. You know you can't. Tell her. Tell her you love her!_

 _But I don't love her,_ he argued.

 _Hehe... Yes, you do. Admit it to me first, then it'll be easy to admit it to her._

But just like that, the horrible male voice started up again. _Ignore her, Jack. Look at all these loaded guns around you, man! She's right in front of you, unsuspecting. Just shoot her. Shoot her. Right now. Do it. Do it. Do it._ He kept repeating himself and it made the Joker want to put the barrel to his own head rather than Harley's. _Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it._

 _Don't!_ The female voice aslmost was so loud it seemed as if she was real. That was when the Joker realized that the voice _was_ real. The woman who screamed for him not to do it wasn't the voice in his head. It was Harley. Somehow when the voice was yelling at him to shoot his trusted henchwoman, he had obeyed without realizing it.

He was holding a loaded Glock 26 to Harley's head, the end of the barrel touching the middle of her forehead right above her eyebrows. The girl had her hands up defensively on either side of her and she shook slightly with fear. "Now, M-Mistah J, h-honey," she stammered. "What are... what are ya doin'? Did I do somethin' wrong?"

The Joker didn't even remember putting the pistol to her forehead. He didn't remember cocking the hammer either. His finger was on the trigger and all he needed to do was pull it and she'd be gone. The voices weren't helping. _Do it. Do it. Do it. Pull the trigger, Jack! Do it. Do it! Do it! Do it!_ Where was that damn kind woman's voice when he needed her?

What broke his heart most was that she immediately asked if she had done something wrong. It never occurred to the poor girl that maybe he was the problem. She hadn't done anything at all. She was sitting there, trying to comfort him, even after he had tried to drown her, and she saw him as nothing but perfection. She adored him. She didn't see the fact that he was holding a gun to her head as a sign that he was flawed. She saw it as a sign that she did something wrong and that she deserved to have the gun to her head, even if she didn't know what she did wrong.

"Puddin'? What did I do?" she pressed, shaking a bit harder.

The Joker slowly brought the Glock away from her head, his entire arm shaking. He was losing his cool and he knew it. Even being completely psychotic, he could still control himself if he wanted to. But he hadn't even been in control of his own actions when he brought the pistol to his henchwoman's head.

"...Puddin'?"

He exhaled slowly, shakily. "You didn't do anything." He put his hands on either side of his head. "She didn't do anything wrong!" he yelled at the voices. "So why? Why are you making me hurt her?"

"Mistah J, don't listen to them-"

"Shut up!" The Joker stood up quickly, throwing his gun to the floor and walking around the room, hitting his head repeatedly with both hands.

Harley sucked in her breath when she saw the cocked gun hit the floor, expecting it to go off. To her relief, it didn't. She took the pistol and emptied the chamber before turning the safety on to prevent a mishap.

She stood up and hesitantly walked up to her Puddin'. She had seen his angry outbursts hundreds of times and she knew if she got too close, she could end up on the floor with a black eye. "Mistah, J? Baby, listen to me-"

"Shut up! Shut up!"

Harley sighed in exasperation. He usually ignored the voices with ease, but she could tell that it was getting worse for him. Especially now. She wanted to find some way to help him. She tried again. "Mistah J, listen to me! Not them-"

"Shut up!"

She was getting angry. How was she supposed to help him if he wouldn't even listen to her? The psychiatrist in her knew that it wasn't his fault, but she still got mad at him. "JOKER! PAY ATTENTION TO ME!"

He stopped pacing. Stopped hitting his head. He looked at her as she breathed heavily with anger. She wasn't exactly angry at him anymore, just his demons for torturing her poor Puddin's mind. "Harley..."

"Puddin'... I can tell they're becoming unbearable. But they're not real. They're just in your head. But me? I'm out here. I'm real. So just ignore them, okay, baby?"

"But I can't ignore them."

"Yes, you can. If you just focus on me." She smiled sweetly and took a step closer to him, feeling that he was calm enough to approach. "It's just me, baby. Just you and me. They're not real."

"They're not real..."

"Not at all." She was now standing right in front of him, although scared he might backhand her. She pushed away her fear and wrapped her arms around the psychotic clown's neck. "I love you, Puddin'," she swooned. _If only he could return the feeling,_ she thought. She stood on her toes and brought her face closer to his.

As the Joker looked at her, the voice telling him to push her away stopped. It just ceased. It was chanting, _Hit her. Hit her. Hit her._ And then it just stopped. The other voices that muttered things barely comprehensible over the dominant voice ceased too. How did she do that? Make the voices stop?

Without the voices telling him what to do, he just did what he wanted to do for once. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close to his body, not wanting to ever let go.

Harley giggled from the sudden gesture of affection and leaned her head on his chest. "Did they stop?"

"Yeah. They did," he answered. "How... how do you do that? You always know how to make them stop when they become too much."

She shrugged. "I dunno, really. Maybe I just make for a good distraction." She looked up at him and he thought he saw her eyes grow sad for a moment. "Do you love me?" she asked.

Harley had always suspected that he loved her and that he just didn't know how to tell her. She knew emotions weren't something he handled very well. It was probably just difficult to admit he loved somebody as much as he loved himself.

But she couldn't stop a feeling of doubt that always flowed through her. The feeling of doubt that clouded her mind whenever she was around somebody with common sense like the doctors at the asylum, Poison Ivy, Selina Kyle, or even Batman. So many people constantly told her that he was just using her. That he was just taking advantage of her. She had always shrugged them off saying, "You don't know my Puddin' like I do!"

Which was true. She knew the Joker better than Batman. She was the only one in the world who knew his story; his secrets. And she'd never tell them to anybody. Everybody had seen the Joker laugh, but Harley Quinn was the only one who had seen him cry.

The Joker wanted to answer her. He really did. But he didn't know how to. He hated emotions. He always thought that love made you weak. If you love somebody, you sacrifice things for them, and the Joker refused to sacrifice anything to anybody. But with Harley, love didn't make her weak. Her love for him made her stronger than ever.

They stood there for a moment, holding each other when the Joker finally spoke up.

"I love you, Harley Quinn."

There were no words to describe the surprise and utter glee Harley was filled with when the words slipped out of his perfect mouth. She squealed with delight before kissing him harder than she ever had before. After she pulled away, she squealed, "Oh, Puddin'! I knew it! I knew ya loved me! Everybody was so wrong! Can ya say it again?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes!"

"Fine... I love you, Harley. There."

"Say it again!"

"Don't push it, Blondie."

"Hehe! I love you too, Puddin'!"

* * *

 **A/N: I honestly don't know what this is. I just kind of wrote whatever came to my mind and created this thing. I honestly don't think it's that bad. But looking back on it, I don't think I represented the Joker correctly, but whatever. Reviews are appreciated. Thanks for the all the favorites too!**


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